


I Bet on Losing Dogs

by tarthserjaime



Category: Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarthserjaime/pseuds/tarthserjaime
Summary: "I don't love you. Nobody loves you."
Relationships: Gwendoline Christie/Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, gwendolaj - Relationship
Comments: 19
Kudos: 42





	I Bet on Losing Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> Tell your baby that I'm your baby

_He was hovering over her, pounding into her, grunting and moaning in such an animalistic fashion. Her moans were muffled by the pillow she was clutching, she bit into it, insistent on taking it all as quickly and as roughly as he gave it. His hands dug into the soft flesh of her hips hard enough that he’d be leaving blueish marbled bruises on her sides. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t given her before. He was slamming her back to meet his thrusts and God, it hurt, but it felt so good. The musk and heat of him overhead made her bury her face deeper into the pillow, pushing her arch further into him. He muttered something. A few more thrusts and it was happening— the rough pressure of his cock was brushing her g-spot and building up pressure. They were both aching for release, and she loved when it happened simultaneously like this. Without missing a beat, he reached down and rubbed her clit furiously, causing her to scream as she came much earlier and harder than she thought she would. The overstimulation made her shrink up, squirming to desperately escape his touch. But he followed, bucking her aggressively and spilling his load into her, groaning into her ear and pressing his sweaty forehead against her temple. It was so hot, and it always made her so full. He placed his lips near her ear, and she waited for those three words that often accompanied his seed. But he didn’t say them. In fact, she wished he’d said nothing at all, because he wove his hands through her growing hair and gripped tightly, and suddenly she was back on set when he growled “I don’t love you. No one loves you.”_

Gwendoline was jolted awake, completely rigid for a moment. She was hyperventilating, before she realized it and made a conscious effort to slow her breathing. She turned to insist she was okay, but the right side of her bed was empty. Of course it was. Slowly, she sat up, becoming increasingly aware of her body. The beige silk sheet rippled under the moonlight, casting a shimmer over her flushed face, and over her disheveled hair. Gwen closed her teary eyes for a moment. It was a dream. She was in London, apparently alone. He was in Copenhagen, with his family. What he said was just for the scene. She knew that. 

She suddenly realized she was sweaty, the neckline of the big tee shirt she slept in was clinging to her collarbone. Furthermore, she was crying, and… wet. _Jesus Christ, Gwendoline._ She checked the time. 5:37 AM meant it was 6:37 AM in Copenhagen. Nikolaj would be awake, and alone for his morning run. She wanted to call him so badly, tell him about her awful dream and cry, hard and ugly until she couldn’t breathe. But that was ridiculously selfish. She knew he’d want to break his word and see her, and the cycle would continue. How could she want him so badly after he told her he couldn’t see her anymore? How could she want him so badly just when she thought she was fine? 

She sunk back into her bed, thinking of that day, when he said those words. The way his face changed when she burst into tears. It broke her, beyond the context of the script, beyond the context of “them”, even, whatever “they” were. At her core, alone was the worst thing Gwendoline could be. She was so terribly afraid of having no one left. Sometimes, it plunged her into a deep self-loathing for a period of days, where she’d relive the traumas of her past over and over, not bothering to get out of bed to eat or shower. He’d seen one himself. She remember him insisting on taking care of her, bringing her food, encouraging her to take showers, and laying beside her, staring at her down his nose. She was terrified that one day this feeling would put her in bed and she’d never truly get out of it. Nikolaj knew that. 

God, that day she was inconsolable. When they were finally on their own, he pulled her in tight and insisted he fought the director on saying it. She remembered that Nikolaj’s eyes were brimming with tears when he apologized. He stroked her hair and kissed her, held her. It was the last strong memory she had of feeling like he needed her. She could still remember the tone in his voice. “I love you, Gwen. So many people love you. I’m sorry.” Why couldn’t she dream about that instead? 

Maybe because not even two weeks later, he basically said those words again. Not so much in that fashion. No, it was disguised by the words “marriage” and “protect” and “betrayal.” She knew it was his duty, or whatever, but she couldn’t help but feel so resentful. That day she insisted he never cared about her, that she felt used. And she truly did. The look on his face was one that would be etched into her brain for the rest of her life. It was the face of a man filled to the brim with conflict and oozing guilt. She didn’t hug him this time. He pulled her in and she writhed and screamed at him to get off of her. It brought her red hot shame to think about now, but the moment was so painful it was all she could muster. 

It’s been a year. A year now, and some months. She’d seen Nikolaj only through the lens of his Instagram story, and slowly found ways to fill the gaps he left in her life. At least, she thought she had. This dream ruined everything. She was fine, not really thinking about him anymore. She got up every day and put on something clean, and did at least 5 tasks, and was living a somewhat normal COVID life. 

Now, she was scrolling through their conversation in iMessage, a bad habit she had developed. From the March after last to now there were so may ‘I love you’s, so many sexy texts, red-eye flights and nude pictures, endearing paragraphs and missed facetime calls, it they slowly started to taper off as time went on. The last message sent was a heartfelt paragraph to him on his birthday this year, to which he replied via Tapback with a heart. She didn’t want to relive the drunk crying she’d done over that one. She also didn’t want to leave it that way. Feeling overcome with an anxious wave of impulsivity, she started to compose a message, pressing send before a wave of regret washed over her. 

**I love you so much it hurts.**

Her quivering lip and jetting tears devolved into a full blown sob as she wrapped her arms around herself. Why did she just do that? To herself? To him? She never wanted to delete a message so badly in her life. Of course, it was read just minutes after she’d sent it. 

Nikolaj was typing. Gwen felt as if she might throw up, trying to calm herself down from the hysterical episode, but every time she thought about him she was sent right back into the throes of it. The typing bubble went away. Gwen didn’t know if she should feel relieved or shattered, but it stopped her crying momentarily. She was even able to close her eyes for a moment, drawing in deep breaths, remembering the breathing exercises she’d practiced with her therapist. 

Until her phone made the sound of a message being returned.

**Gwen? I love you too min elskede. I dnt even know if i shld say that anymore. This is a bit unexpected. Is everything ok? R u ok? -N**

If she closed her eyes, she could hear him say it. She scoffed in her mind, of course she most definitely wasn’t okay. She read the text over and over, hating his stupid shorthand texting and the way he signed off every message with his first initial. Her heart barely had time to drop into her stomach before her phone rang, cutting through the thick silence. His big, stupid face was plastered across the screen. 

The sun was beginning to rise, peeking through the slits in her blinds.

_Gwendoline, you selfish bitch._

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small drabble. Thank you for reading <3 feedback is really appreciated!


End file.
